Out of the Ashes (30 page)

“He isn’t a good man,” I started quietly. “The worst, actually. I left when Lexie was a baby. You know what I said about surviving?” I asked Gwen.

She nodded, a sad understanding on her face.

“Well, I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I hadn’t left.”

I didn’t add if I hadn’t run. Hadn’t hidden. No matter how much I trusted these women, I couldn’t tell them the whole truth. For my safety. For Lexie’s.

Amy’s hand covered mine. She gave it a squeeze then released it.

“I think we need more drinks,” she declared to the table, winking at me.

“Yeah, ‘cause then we’d be able to settle in for watching young love unfold.” Rosie nodded behind me and all eyes moved in that direction.

I followed her gaze. Killian had dispersed all of the kids and was talking to Lexie. He had his hand at her wrist and his face was close to hers.

“Lexie had a boyfriend before?” Rosie asked, her eyes not moving.

“Nope,” I replied, my eyes not moving either. “They are officially joined at the hip. I think I need to call his parents and let them know their son does still exist, he’s just been sucked into a black hole of adolescent love,” I joked. He had spent all his time at our place over the last couple of weeks.

Lexie had her eyes downcast and Killian’s other hand went to her chin, directing it so her face lifted to his.

A silence settled over the table and I looked to see all of the women’s faces grim. “Kill doesn’t exactly have parents, Mia,” Rosie explained softly.

Well, excuse me while I extract my giant, cork-clad foot from my mouth.

“His dad was a good man, a good father. He died when Kill was about eleven,” she continued. Her face hardened. “His mom’s a junkie, total bitch to boot. Doesn’t give a shit about him. Club’s pretty much raised him,” she told me with sad eyes.

I felt a pang for this poor kid, the one who looked strong and unflappable from the outside. The one who also looked like a whole lot of bad news, but one who treated my daughter with unbelievable tenderness and me with respect. I had already begun to grudgingly like him. This just cemented it. Plus, I knew exactly what it was like to have parents who didn’t give a shit. It sucked. No wonder he gripped onto a girl like Lexie with both hands. Why he was happy to sit with us and watch movies he no doubt hated while we chattered through them almost half the time.

Lucy, who had been quiet, spoke to me. “Despite that, Killian’s actually a real good kid,” she told me with a small smile. “I’ve known him since he was a baby, and despite appearances he’s respectful. He’ll treat her well,” she promised.

“I already know he will,” I told her with a smile.

“Yeah well, if he doesn’t I know he’d have Cade to answer to,” Gwen interjected. “He’s pretty big on treating women with respect.”

“And Brock,” Amy added.

“And pretty much every guy in the club,” Rosie added.

“And me,” I added. “I may not own a shotgun, but I’m thinking of heading down to Walmart to get myself an arsenal.” I may have liked the kid, definitely felt sorry for him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in for it if he hurt my baby.

The women laughed. I wasn’t sure why, considering I wasn’t kidding.

Then I felt it. Something that made my eyes move from Lexie and Killian’s intense looking conversation. It was pressure, heat, anger. I could feel
him
. His stare. My eyes moved until they settled on dark, stormy, beautiful ones. Zane stood in the doorway that led into Rosie’s kitchen. He was wearing all black, as usual, despite the fact it was scorching. I felt like the temperature went up about a thousand degrees with his glower threatening to set me on fire.

“Mia, why is Bull looking at you like you blew up the Harley Davidson headquarters?” Gwen asked. “Did you guys have a fight or something?” The subject of Zane was surprisingly yet to come up in our chat. The women had all asked about what happened in Hope and had seemed sympathetic of me having to give up my favorite vintage haunt, at least temporarily, but no one had grilled me about my relationship with Zane. It was as if these women had a sixth sense about heartbreak, or at least they were waiting for me to bring it up. Zane’s unmistakable glare had them done waiting.

“Umm,” I drew out my response, willing myself to tear my gaze away, or at least to muster up my own glare. He wasn’t the only one who was angry. I may be trying to convince him not to give up on us, but I was still pissed as hell he did in the first place.

Before I got the chance, his eyes moved. They settled on Killian and Lexie. I didn’t think it was possible for his gaze to turn more murderous, but it did. I was surprised Killian didn’t scamper away or beg for mercy once he met it. But the kid stood his ground. I had to admire him for that. Zane stormed his way over there. He hadn’t been around the past two weeks, so he obviously wasn’t privy to the serious relationship that had developed in that time. Which was probably a good thing, considering what he was doing in his blissful ignorance.

Zane barked something at Killian and he reluctantly let Lexie go and stormed into the house, pushing past Zane.

Lexie looked after him with a faraway look in her eye. Her gaze settled on Zane and she beamed, running over to him. To mine and everyone else’s at the table’s utter surprise, she put her arms around him. He seemed to jolt slightly before engulfing her in his giant arms and kissing her head lightly. He pulled back once he had decided he’d shown enough affection without damaging his badass card. His face softened as she chattered away, smiling the entire time.

More than a few men in the crowd were watching in open amazement at his soft face and clipped answers to Lexie’s chattering.

“Is that Bull actually having a conversation?” Amy asked in disbelief.

“And he might actually look like he has the possibility of a smile brewing,” added Rosie, equally gobsmacked.

“And he let Lexie actually touch him in public,” Gwen added with a sad smile. She looked to me. “You’ve fixed him,” she declared weirdly. Her voice held a sad note to him.

“Fixed him?” I repeated in confusion, really needing to get behind the glint in all the women’s eyes. The glint that was connected to the demons in Zane’s. That, I guessed, was the reason Zane was trying so hard to keep his distance.

The ringing of my phone interrupted the conversation, much to my chagrin.

“Sorry, ladies, I’ve got to get this,” I said apologetically. I did, considering I was on call at the hotel and I was sure something would go wrong right when I needed to be exactly where I was.

I put the phone to my ear, wandering away from the music and chattering.

“Hello, Mia Spencer speaking,” I answered the unknown caller professionally, happy it wasn’t the hotel. Maybe it was the president this time.

“Mia Spencer?” a formal sounding voice asked.

“This is she,” I replied, something settling in my stomach.

“Ms. Spencer, this is Officer Santos of the Washington, DC PD,” he said.

My heart turned to lead and I had trouble swallowing. I knew. Something bad had happened. Police officers didn’t just call for a chat. I tasted bile. What if
he
had found us? And this cop was on his payroll? I struggled to contain my fear. I looked at the back of my daughter’s head. I’d die before letting him find her.

“What can I do for you, officer?” I asked, trying to sound strong.

My eyes met Zane’s, and his didn’t hold anger. They were latched onto me with something akin to concern. He watched my every move.

“Ms. Spencer, I’m sorry to have to tell you this over the phone, but Mr. and Mrs. Thorndon had you down as their next of kin,” he said softly.

I jerked, not expecting this to be the topic of the conversation. I felt the world tilt and I struggled to stay upright. “Are they,” I choked. “Are they okay?” I asked, more liked pleaded him to tell me.

There was a pause. A small one. But one that made my heart break in two.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Spencer, they were murdered last night. We found them this morning.” His voice held sorrow but a distance, like a man who had done this a hundred times before.

My head pounded and I failed to let his words sink in. “No, you have it wrong. I just spoke to them yesterday, it’s not them,” I protested desperately. I started pacing. It couldn’t be them. It had to be a mistake. They were the only family I had. The only family Lexie and I had.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Spencer.” The voice held finality.

It hit me then; it sank in. They were gone. Murdered. My legs gave out from under me at that point and I collapsed into a chair that was perfectly placed. Otherwise I would have fallen to the ground. The cop may have been still talking. I couldn’t hear him. I couldn’t hear anything apart from the beating in my chest. The ripping, the soul-wrenching pain. My breath came in pants.

My phone was ripped from my ear and Zane crouched in front of me. His huge form took up all of my vision. I focused on it. On his vest. On his strong arms, his tattoos, the thick cords of muscle in his neck. The day’s worth of stubble on his jaw hiding his goatee slightly. Then I met his eyes, which were locked on me as he barked into the phone. I didn’t move my gaze from them. They were my anchor, stopping me from toppling over the abyss.

“Who the fuck is this?” he demanded, half shouted.

There was a silence and Zane listened, his body taut.

“Murdered,” I whispered, my voice broken, tortured. I was saying it to myself, tasting the foulness of the word on my tongue when I verbalized it.

Zane flinched when I spoke.

Murdered. How could the two most caring people I know be murdered?

My phone wasn’t in Zane’s hand anymore and his large hands spanned my neck, gripping it softly.

“Mia,” he began in a voice so tender I had to stare a moment to make sure it was him that actually spoke. It was. The rough, sometimes downright scary dude was speaking to me in a gentle, soft and comforting tone. His eyes were the same.

“Who would want to kill them?” I asked him desperately. “They’ve never hurt anyone in their entire lives. They’re grandparents, nice people. Ava
bakes brownies
. Who would want to hurt a grandma who bakes brownies?” I choked out. Though they may not have been blood, that’s what they were. They were my parents. The only grandparents Lexie ever knew. Ever would know.

Zane’s face hardened. It looked like he was going to say something, but a small voice beat him to it.

“Mom?”

I looked past Zane to see Lexie standing slightly behind him. Killian wasn’t far away, his expression grim.

Pain sliced through me at the sight of my daughter. The one who was almost always happy. Who, despite her father and the fact she had grown up without luxury, had a good childhood. Largely thanks to two people she doted on. Two people who I would have to tell her were gone. Her carefree life would be shattered and she’d feel a pain it was impossible to protect her from, shield her from.

I stood from the chair, finding my strength in my daughter. I needed it for her. Zane stayed close beside me.

“Dollface, let’s go home,” I said quietly, failing to disguise the anguish in my voice. I didn’t want her to have to hear this here, around so many unfamiliar faces. Granted, the faces of Gwen and Amy were locked on us in worry, as were the gazes of their husbands, but this was not something Lexie needed to go through with an audience.

I tried to gently direct her to the street but she stayed still.

“No,” she said firmly, “I want to know now. Tell me what’s going on.”

Zane stepped forward, his face soft. “Lex, listen to your mom. We’ll get you home and you can talk there,” he told her quietly, his eyes searching hers.

“No,” she repeated, this time louder. Her eyes were determined.

“Freckles,” Killian tried, stepping forward to lightly grasp her elbow, a tender look on his face.

She wrenched her elbow out of his grip. “No, Kill.” Her voice broke at the end. She knew something was wrong. “Mom?” She moved her gaze to me.

I swallowed, knowing she wouldn’t move unless Zane carried her bodily. Stubbornness was a trait she inherited from me.

I moved forward to frame her face in my hands. “It’s Ava and Steve,” I said softly, willing my voice not to break.

Lexie looked at me blankly for a moment, then her faced paled. Pain sliced through her beautiful features. I flinched.

“They’re going to be okay though?” she asked, clinging to a vain hope. A last shred of sanity.

I paused, gathering myself. My head shook slowly. “No, baby,” I murmured.

She got that blank look on her face again and I gathered her in my arms, hoping I could somehow take all of the pain out of her body and take it into mine.

She stood woodenly for a moment, not moving as I clutched her to me. Then her body started to shake; the power of her sobs actually shook her entire body. I managed to swallow my own tears in order to be strong for Lexie, although the pain of loss was cutting through me like a knife through butter.

I felt Lexie’s weight hit me, as the weight of her sorrow was too strong to stand under. I struggled to hold her. I struggled to hold myself.